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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387748">All This Shit Is Weird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoia/pseuds/BosionBerry'>BosionBerry (Akoia)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mages, Murder, Original Inquisitor - Freeform, Original story until Inquisition, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Templars, War, Witch of the Wilds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:00:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoia/pseuds/BosionBerry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From acclaimed author, Varric Tethras comes the thrilling adventure of Inquisitor Cecilia. From her childhood in the Kakari Wilds to her stunning rise to power during the Breach crisis. Fall in love with the never before known personal struggles of our hero, and grow to love her as her friends did.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Morrigan/Male Tabris (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All This Shit Is Weird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> All This Shit Is Weird - The Completely True Retelling Of The Inquisition: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I Swear to The Maker, I Couldn’t Make This Shit Up If I Tried.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Title is a work in progress-VT)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> By Varric Tethras  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They say that the bog of the Korcari Wilds never slumbers, the monsters roaming the area would snatch any unlucky wanderers to venture into their territory. But even more frightening than the wyverns and giant spiders that called the Wilds their home, was the witch who had settled there an age and a half ago. The Chasind often warned travelers who passed through never to venture toward the witch’s home, and those that were fool enough to ignore their warnings were never heard from again. It is unclear if the witch killed them, or if they were simply carried off by carnivores, but with each disappearance, the rumors grew. </p><p>This was the place where the future Inquisitor, Cecilia, was born. To most, the morning of her birth was an unassuming summer day. On the 9th day of Molioris, 9:19 Dragon, Cecilia came into the world screaming, greeted by no one but her mother and her older sister. She was born with her mother’s golden eyes, shining bright with potential, and raven black hair. It took only moments for her mother to grow tired of the babe’s cries. </p><p>“Oh hush,” the woman said, holding her daughter to her breast. “If we all screamed at such minor inconveniences, we’d have nothing to do for the rest of the day.” The child, as if knowing that she was in danger the moment of her birth, fell quiet. Nothing but small whimpers from new life, not yet understanding what was happening around her. </p><p>“It’s ugly,” the sister said, poking the baby’s cheek with a sharp finger. “Was I as red as she was when I was born? She looks like a radish.” </p><p>“As I recall…” the mother said. “You were bald as a naked mole-rat.” </p><p>The sister glared at the mother. “What are we to call it then? I assume you want us to keep it?” </p><p>The mother hummed and looked down at her daughter. The newest in a long line of daughters. So similar to her other kin, that the mother could scarcely tell her apart from another daughter who’d been born a hundred years ago. She’d learned a very long time ago, that maternal coddling would not help her children survive, it would only hamper them. Cause them to expect hand-holding until they were old and withered. The callous, sometimes cruel, treatment of her children was what kept them strong. Surviving. But the mother could tell...this child would be different from the others. And she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. She wondered for a moment, would it be best to simply cary the child out into the bog as a peace offering for the spiders that had been encroaching on her territory. But no, the child’s red nose and soft cheeks may have even saved her on his first day of life. “You name her,” the mother said, handing the babe into her sister’s arms.  </p><p>The sister thought for a moment, maybe two, touching the child’s button nose, before grimacing. She thought of calling her toad. Or gnat. But figured it would indenture her sister to her if she was called something pretty. “Cecilia,” she said, remembering a little red-haired girl she’d once met among the Chasind. It seemed to match the little girl, whose eyes were so soft and whose fingers were so very small. The sister wondered if she was ever so small. How could something be so weak and yet survive? </p><p>“Well enough, I suppose,” the mother said with a tiered shrug of her shoulders. “Wake me when she cries next,” she said, before laying down in her cot and falling asleep. </p><p>***</p><p>The Cecilia grew as all children did, shooting up to her sister Morrigan’s elbows by the time she was seven years old. It was on her seventh birthday, that her life changed forever. For good or bad, to this day she never knew. She shot up from her bed, rousing her grouchy sister, and slipped on her flat shoes, still in her shift, grabbing the bucket of feed for the chickens. She hurriedly dumbed it out, sparing a simple morning greeting for the animals that voiced their disapproval of her hasty feeding with small pecks at her feet. </p><p>“You little beast,” Morrigan growled when she emerged from the hut they’d called home their whole lives. “Tell me what has you so hyper that you must wake me at such an ungodly hour?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Is it so exciting for you to roll around in the goats' filth?” </p><p>Cecilia scowled at her older sister and set the bag of feed down on a cut tree stump. “Mother is coming home today, remember,” she said. “She said she had a surprise for me, I’m six now, you know.” Cecilia smiled brightly at her sister, spinning about happily with her arms outstretched. “I bet she’s <em>finally </em>going to let me go to the market! I’ll get to see real people, oh I’m so excited.” </p><p>Morrigan frowned-which was not an uncommon occurrence-and watched her sister dance. Morrigan was a girl without much pity or sweetness in her heart, but surly when she knew her sister’s grim fate she must have felt...something. Empathy, though it’s unlikely. She thought, maybe it would have been the last time she would see the little girl. “Come inside for breakfast,” she snapped, turning from the girl and quickly storming back into their home. Cecilia followed at her heels, happily bouncing along the way. </p><p>Their mother returned an hour or so later, a flurry of magic in her wake as she opened the wards that kept them guarded against the outside world. Her youngest daughter, now dressed in a simple brown dress and stalkings excitedly got up from her seat, bouncing on her toes. “Mother! Mother! You said you had a surprise for me!” </p><p>The mother rested her hand atop the small girl’s raven black hair and nodded with a soft chuckle. “Yes, my dear,” she said. “Get your walking shoes, it’ll be a bit of a trek.” Cecilia skipped excitedly and laced up her boots then impatiently waited for her mother by the door. The mother held out her hand for the girl, who took it with equal measures of shock and happiness, and out they went into the bog. </p><p>While they walked, the witch something she rarely did, and talked. She told her daughter, of all the plants they passed on their trail. “That is a special little weed that grows in Orlais,” she said, gesturing to a purple bloom that wound up the trunk of a decaying tree. “I had the most difficult time trying to make it grow. Some plants are just so finicky, but when they take root...they thrive. All they need is a little push.” </p><p>“What does it do?” Cecilia asked, reaching to touch a petal before her mother slapped her hand away with a disapproving stare.   </p><p>“My dear, you will find that the most beautiful plants are often the ones that are the most deadly,” she warned. “This beauty can kill a grown man, with just a single seed crushed into his food. Remember that, liquids will dilute it, it could be used to expel poison if mixed with tea. The petals cause numbness. Sometimes it’s permanent when ingested. But when pulverized and mixed with mud, or elf root, or spindleweed acts as a most effective pain killer.” She let go of her daughter’s hand. “Every plant within these wilds could kill or cure a man if you just know the right way to prepare it.” </p><p>“Yes, mother,” the girl said dutifully. She looked at the purple flower, how its vines seemed to be strangling the life out of the tree that it was occupying. “What will happen when the tree dies?” She asked. </p><p>“Oh, it will spread,” she said. “All throughout the bog, killing anything that stays in one place for too long. When the tree falls, we will have to move the plant and let it take over a new host.” She waved her hand dismissively and grabbed her daughter again to lead her away. “But we won’t have to worry about it for some ten years or so. Maybe more if we trim it every six months.” </p><p>Down the path, they went, with the mother pointing out each plant that Cecilia asked about. They walked until it was nearly dark and Cecilia was stumbling with hunger and exhaustion. They stopped before a murky pond with a layer of scum so thick, Cecilia wondered if she could walk on it. It smelled horrible. Like rot, decay, <em> death. </em>“Look at this,” the mother said. “This is the heart of this bog. Here is where many animals come to die. Here is where she claims her victims who tread too far from the path. Here...is where you will be tested.” </p><p>Cecilia wanted to ask what she meant, her heart plummeting down to her feet. But her mother grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her into the murky depths. First, confusion, then betrayal. There was no water, only thick black mud that went up in her nose and into her mouth. If it smelled bad, the taste was so much worse. She was choking, but she couldn’t expel the muck from her body without more flowing in. Cecilia was sure that she could feel bodies brushing against her while she sunk to the bottom. </p><p>Every desperate wiggle sent her deeper and deeper into darkness. She couldn’t tell where she was, there was no light peeking through the haze. Only darkness, decay, and pure terror. And if Cecilia had been anyone else, she surely would have perished just moments later. She felt the spark from the bottom of her stomach, before a surge of blinding electricity erupted around her, the pond, and the shore. It was enough to cut a line through to the top and Cecilia took her chance, not stopping to question her luck. She saw a rock in the opening and grabbed on, pulling herself up onto the bank, coughing, hacking, and vomiting the black bile of the swamp. She was completely covered in the muck, and freezing cold from the mud. She wiped her hand on the grass to clean it before desperately cleaning away the mud from her face and nose. She gasped for breath, chest heaving with panic, and anger, and power all at once. She sat up, letting her legs fall around her. She looked up, her mother was sitting on a stump, looking almost bored. </p><p>“Storm,” she said. “Ugh, you are truly your father’s daughter. I had hoped to have a daughter whose natural element was frost. But alas, it alludes me yet again.” She stood, dusting off her boots. “So you passed the first test, congratulations, I suppose. Now you must make it back home. Prove that you can survive, and I will reward you. Return home as soon as you can, dear.” Then the mother’s body shifted, twisted, and changed into a black raven, leaving her stunned child sitting on the ground. </p><p>Cecilia, naturally, was terrified. She stood up and started crying when her emotions finally caught up to her. She sat and cried her eyes out then stood with a growl of rage, balling her small hands into the tiniest of fists. She’d kill her mother, she decided, she’d do it then she and Morrigan could run away and live somewhere that wasn’t nearly as disgusting as a bog. Cecilia straightened her muddy clothes and set back on the path toward the hut. The sun was setting, but she had little time to worry. Every second counted every step another step towards survival. </p><p>Though, when night fell, she suddenly became so much less...sure of her plot. The birds, they were gone. She couldn’t hear a thing. She stopped, unease settling in her stomach. She was being watched, but by what. She turned around and saw nothing. No, it wouldn’t have been a very smart predator to allow its prey to see it. She knew she was small and held no weapons, so she did the only thing she could think to do. She ran. Down through the underbrush and into the tree line, she heard it. Paws, or claws, pounding into the dirt when a wild creature snarled in anger at being discovered. It was so close behind her, she knew she couldn’t outrun it. No, not a chance. She fell, a branch placed so conveniently in her path and she slammed down to the ground, right as a beast leaped over her head. </p><p>It was so beautiful, that Cecilia was momentarily stunned. It’s fur was black, as dark as the sky above with shining yellow eyes that looked at her hungrily. It was some kind of large cat, Cecilia didn’t think they lived so far south. Maybe it was lost, or maybe her mother had imported it into the bog simply to torment her daughter. Either way, Cecilia knew that she had lost precious seconds of reaction time admiring the beast, and held out her hand toward it. She felt it, the same burning power from before, then it shot from her hands, bouncing all around her. Hitting trees, rocks, the unfortunate number of frogs that had been nesting in the mud. </p><p>The cat yowling when it was struck by a blast and fell over. It wasn’t dead, but it was stunned. Cecilia clambered to her feet and ran back to the trail, sprinting as fast as her short legs would carry her down the path. Distantly, behind her, she heard the cat still giving chase, but it movements were slower, labored. Cecilia stopped and turned around, channeling her magic into her fingertips. The cat lowered its body to the ground, tail swishing in the air before it sprang at her with a mighty roar. Cecilia raised her arms on instinct, calling all the power in her body toward the cat, that stopped an inch from her face, and fell to the ground twitching, smoking, roaring in pain. Before falling still and dead. Cecilia stood over the body, gasping, almost unable to breathe. She couldn’t stay to admire her kill, because she didn’t know if he was the only one. So she turned and ran, not stopping for a single moment. </p><p>She slammed into the hut door two hours later, her feet blistered in her shoes, rips and holes in her dress, and covered head to toe in mud. Morrigan was there, waiting by the fire with her arms crossed over her chest. “You kept me waiting,” she said. She gestured with her chin toward a basin filled with warm water, and Cecilia fell to her knees, balling her eyes out. Somehow, she had survived. </p><p>“Where is she?” Cecilia growled, slamming her small hands down on the ground. “Where is that vile hag?!”   </p><p>“Here, dear,” the mother said, sitting on a plush chair with a book in her lap. “Honestly, do you intend to get mud all over the floor? You stink, take a bath.” </p><p>“I’ll kill you!” Cecilia screamed, ripping her boot off her foot and hurling it towards her mother. It stopped in mid-air before flying back and hitting Cecilia in the face with a flick of the mother’s hand. She still hadn’t looked up from her book. </p><p>“If you truly intend to kill me, child, you’ll have to train harder than this,” she said before casting a critical eye to the child. “Next time you aim at me and miss...I <em> won’t. </em> Do I make myself clear, daughter?” She asked. Cecilia didn’t answer, glaring at the woman from across the room. “I <em> said, </em> do I make myself <em> clear?”  </em></p><p>Cecilia grit her teeth and jerkily nodded her head. “Yes, I won’t miss next time,” she said. Then she pulled her clothes off and threw herself into the warm water that Morrigan had apparently prepared for her. </p><p>The old sister sat behind the younger and started to wash the muck from her hair, combing it out with a wooden brush, picking out bugs and pieces of dead flesh that had found their way onto her body. SIlently, Cecilia seethed, silently plotting her revenge.</p>
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